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There I was on the Banks of the Ganges!
by
Pat Flannery AKA the Kontinental Kid
My best friend Fritz, also my best man at my wedding, and I
were living in an old Whore house built back in the 30’s up
near Pt Dume on Bonsall Cyn. Dr.. All the rooms were
built around a horse shoe pool with asphalt parking for 50
outback. All five rooms had shower, bathtubs, washbasins in
them. I was working at Alice's Restaurant at the Malibu
pier that summer and by the time fall rolled around the job
was over.
Fritz and I took off for a new adventure to Park City, UT
which at the time was more of a hide out for guys on the lam
from the law. It was still more of an old miner town that
had petered put and the next generation of money came in to
make what Park
City is today. I think we both liked it when it was
smaller.
The ski season ended and I headed back to my roots in LA and
landed in Santa Monica. Took a couple months but I found a
job at Buffalo Chips. Apparently I was the first white guy
in sometime to be hired as a cook by Jules B. Santos and
Antonio and the other Mexican Mafia guy, who cleaned up the
place, use to unmercifully talk shit about me in Spanish. I
never let on that I knew Spanish having worked in the
garment district as a teenager and I really was broke and
needed the job and said nothing until the last day as a
cook. I told them to eat shit and die in Spanish, you should
have seen their jaws drop hitting the ground. The way I said
it to them let them know I really understood what they had
been saying for months. After the immediate embarrassment on
their part we did part friends but it was a lesson learned.
I was hired on the bar after I told Jules I had cheese
burgers chasing me in my dreams. If I would have known it
was going to be that easy I would have spoken up earlier.
That month I moved to a new apartment behind a house built
in the 1890’s. Maybe apartment is being too kind it was a
reconverted garage with dry wall giving the impression of
two bedrooms, but hey Fritz and I were splitting a $125 a
month rent including utilities living 2 blocks off the
beach. Yea Baby!!
Finally on the bar I stayed for 4 more years (75-79) seeing
and living the things that make tall tales of high adventure
and major bullshit come alive. You can’t make these stories
up that happen right in front of you.
I had a bet with a doorman after we had to dispatch an
unruly customer, again being kind. The custom of placing a
choke hold till they lapsed into unconsciousness was the
norm. Unceremoniously they were dispatched to the Dempsey
dumpster out in the back parking lot and were gently floated
down to the bottom of it. The bet was which bodily system
would come back on first- sight- taste- hearing-smell. I
won, it was smell!
Ban the Bra night always brought out the worst of the worst
and wall to wall but this one year it was a biker chick at
the event , that I must say I have never witnessed again,
she was standing at station 5 on the bar pulled out her
breasts out and started hosing the crowd and hitting people
5 and 6 deep back from the bar. Many of our patrons had
their mouths opened when they witnessed event. Wow! I had to
start some personal assessment and psychological inventory
after that one. That lasted 2 seconds and got back to
pouring drinks. NEXT!! LOL
One time 4 doorman couldn’t take this guy down and they kept
telling me to get the hell out the way until I grabbed him
by the cuff of his pants and it was eggs and shoes to the
west for this dirt bag. Branch thought I was alright after
that. Steve Bernard always said eggs and shoes to the west,
put an egg in your shoe and beat it at closing.
Going down to Mexico
with Scanlon for Clark to get Hawaiian shirts for all the
bartenders, we end up in some dirt road bar and feeling very
lucky to get the hell out of there with our clothes and
money intact.
Getting drunk with Scanlon 4 days a week, my first shooter
with Danny Baralt, the legs of Barbie Carvis that went from…
enough said, the fight at Jack in the Box with Scanlon and
Baralt and getting a fire canister unloaded on all of us.
Going to the Mirror go Round after hours- Staying up all
night with Smokey and Scanlon closing Sloans and starting up
again at Rudy’s at 6 am. Jesus how did I survive. Going over
the bar more times than I can remember. Grant Benetti in one
of those fights couldn’t get his tie off we cut it off.
Next day I showed him my collection of break away ties, he
was grateful on the other hand literally the bar back's hand
I stood on was not as appreciative as his hand was caught
between my foot and the electric burner for coffee. I could
still see the burned rings a month later still embedded in
hands a month later and I am sorry for the pain I caused.
Putting the name Paddy Hurst on my name tag, the Paddy part
stays with me even now.
I met many great folks like Verlee and her kids, Rose Lee
and DirtyCharlie Creel(stumpy), Jack and Don Kisch, “The
Face “ Wendy from USC and meeting the Beach Boys, Barbie
Carvis, Ann Michele, finally getting Luanne to say fuck you,
riding horses with Tim Keene, Steve Bernard and Karen Rosen.
Thank you Karen for taking care of little Paddy when major
things went wrong around me. Please find me again Jackie
and I would love to see you again. I know none us will
forget the beautiful soul of Katie- RIP. To my little buddy
Paul who had a motor home who made it possible to steal the
USC sign from the Harbor freeway and who incidentally was
the creator of the ‘dirt bag doll”. And where the hell is
Scanlon????
I think that about covers it all for now. Sorry if I didn’t
mention a few names( The Great Scott or The Hawk flies south
for the winter ) and thanks for all of the memories of a few
of the Tall Tales and High Adventures and Major Bullshit.
Pat (paddy) Flannery
Oar
Stories page
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